Vincent Truman's Blog - Posts Tagged "internet-gaming"
Farewells No. 2: Family
In 2012, I had to bid adieu to my family of seven years. Aunts, uncles, cousins, mothers and nephews were swept away as if by a cataclysmic tsunami in slow motion, which came in the form of my former wife’s displeasure with our life together. Perhaps the best representation of this unwanted transformation can be found in various emails shared with my former sister-in-law: in April 2012, she claimed to still see my as family and we were planning to have dinner sometime; in September 2012, she declined an invitation to meet some people I had introduced her online to because she didn’t wish to “cause trouble”; in December 2012, she snapped at me in an email, indicating she didn’t care if we were friends any longer since “real friendships don’t exist online.” Whatever was being said about me appears to have been very effective.
The pain, which continues is a slightly subdued form to this day, was so great that I had taken to writing a daily journal of my experiences, starting when my former spouse announced one day, in early November 2011, that we should separate. The journal continued for a year; sometime around August 2012, three months after I obtained our divorce (I carried the weight of appearing in court for a divorce I didn’t want), I thought it might make a good book. It was like putting all of my hurt into a box and putting it out into the real world and far away from my personal one. Despite changing all of the names, focusing a high-powered microscope on my own failings and limiting the experiences to my own, my former wife immediately took me to court over the book. Her original complaint was that, because I had started the journal when we were still married, she felt entitled to the proceeds. Of course, being a self-published book, she was more than aware that the proceeds would be minimal (at the time of the action brought, they were firmly fixed at $0). In our eventual Agreed Order on the topic, she let fly her greatest concern – that I had used an avatar of hers from the virtual game Second Life on the cover of my book, a horrific little game that had done so much in tearing us apart. The book was pulled from circulation. Another thing that was covered in the Agreed Order was that I would not be allowed to use her likeness (something I didn’t do) in the book or any derivation of the book in question. So that leaves her name: Jennifer.
As I saw it, she got everything she wanted when she wanted it. The separation. A very generous payout from her investment in our home (at cash value, not at market value). The divorce. Cutting me out of her life (effectively making her, as the Gotye song goes, someone that I used to know). I gave her all of that. All I wanted was my book. And she strongarmed me into giving that up as well. If the sexes were reversed, I’d be seen as nothing short of a verbal and emotional abuser intent on controlling a former love interest. However, since the sexes are what they are, I have not been very supported and have done my best to “take it like a man.” It’s been nothing short of horrific. Thinking on the days following her moving out and lasting until the divorce itself, I could probably count on one hand the days I didn’t cry.
I’d like to say what it was that inspired our divorce, but to this day, I don’t really know. Jennifer never told me. I have been able to piece together some puzzle pieces involving both her history and her over-the-top use of Second Life, but I have not been able to find anything I did that was worth being abandoned over. Certainly I was not perfect in the marriage, but I don’t know anyone who is. She certainly wasn’t. But our primary difference was that I loved her imperfections and loved her both because of and in spite of same. As for Jennifer, I’ve no idea why she snapped one day (sometime between late October 2011 and early November 2011, the idea of our lifelong commitment was something she did not want to endure).
I owe her a great gratitude on a lot of levels. When we first got together, I was very much like her father – lying, cheating, all that good stuff. But by the time we got married in 2009, I had embraced therapy and I had embraced trust. I admit that I was iffy about the marriage idea – having seen so many that were hollow rings with people attached to them – but my trust in her saw me through. I admit to being quietly proud of the fact that no other person, male or female, could get between her and me. And it is because of Jennifer’s faith in me that I sought to make myself a good man. Both for me and for us.
We were married in August 2009 and bought our house in May 2010. That only 18 months transpired between the house and the introduction of separation still feels like a broadside of epic proportions. It is only made tolerable – barely, I should point out – when I trace the history to her involvement in Second Life, which took on a life of its own around August 2011. From then on, I felt secondary to the various virtual parties, dance club nights, weddings and various other events that seemed to clog our marital arteries.
I did reach out to various mutual friends and family members, but nobody turned a hair. Months later, when Jennifer returned to Facebook, blocking me immediately, several of these folks engaged her in various video distractions – Songpop, Farmville, etc. etc. – despite my warnings and expressed fears of her addictive personality. So at the end of the day, I am viewed as either a Bad Guy or Irrelevant Guy, and Jennifer continues to be enabled.
I miss my seven-year family so much that, even when silence comes in moments, I am aware of their absence. With respect to my sister-in-law, it wasn’t that long ago that I got her an autographed copy of a book entitled “Seeing Ezra” by Kerry Cohen, because I thought it might be beneficial with respect to her son, and encouraged her to pursue her photography. Then the landscape switched and she (the sister-in-law, not Ms. Cohen) had no interest in being friends whatsoever. As with Jennifer, I have no clue what I did to deserve such outright scorn.
And, for the record, I do continue to miss Jennifer. Not the Jennifer who, when I suggested she get off Second Life so we could go have brunch, would snap at me, “Ugh, you’re just like my mother!” Not the Jennifer who told her friends she was done with me in December 2011 but made nice-nice to my face to get what she wanted. Not the Jennifer who would not pay attention when I called because she was busy buying a virtual dress on Second Life in advance of the next virtual hoedown. That Jennifer can go off and become a crazy cat lady and knit beard hats for her nephews. No, my Jennifer was vibrant, brilliant, artistic, beautiful, adventurous and, more than all of that, compassionate.
As were they all. And I love them all still. But my love is the kind that overlooks a grave, but does not hug and kiss. Divorce is like a death, a friend of mine recently told me, only far, far worse.
If only it was that easy.
The pain, which continues is a slightly subdued form to this day, was so great that I had taken to writing a daily journal of my experiences, starting when my former spouse announced one day, in early November 2011, that we should separate. The journal continued for a year; sometime around August 2012, three months after I obtained our divorce (I carried the weight of appearing in court for a divorce I didn’t want), I thought it might make a good book. It was like putting all of my hurt into a box and putting it out into the real world and far away from my personal one. Despite changing all of the names, focusing a high-powered microscope on my own failings and limiting the experiences to my own, my former wife immediately took me to court over the book. Her original complaint was that, because I had started the journal when we were still married, she felt entitled to the proceeds. Of course, being a self-published book, she was more than aware that the proceeds would be minimal (at the time of the action brought, they were firmly fixed at $0). In our eventual Agreed Order on the topic, she let fly her greatest concern – that I had used an avatar of hers from the virtual game Second Life on the cover of my book, a horrific little game that had done so much in tearing us apart. The book was pulled from circulation. Another thing that was covered in the Agreed Order was that I would not be allowed to use her likeness (something I didn’t do) in the book or any derivation of the book in question. So that leaves her name: Jennifer.
As I saw it, she got everything she wanted when she wanted it. The separation. A very generous payout from her investment in our home (at cash value, not at market value). The divorce. Cutting me out of her life (effectively making her, as the Gotye song goes, someone that I used to know). I gave her all of that. All I wanted was my book. And she strongarmed me into giving that up as well. If the sexes were reversed, I’d be seen as nothing short of a verbal and emotional abuser intent on controlling a former love interest. However, since the sexes are what they are, I have not been very supported and have done my best to “take it like a man.” It’s been nothing short of horrific. Thinking on the days following her moving out and lasting until the divorce itself, I could probably count on one hand the days I didn’t cry.
I’d like to say what it was that inspired our divorce, but to this day, I don’t really know. Jennifer never told me. I have been able to piece together some puzzle pieces involving both her history and her over-the-top use of Second Life, but I have not been able to find anything I did that was worth being abandoned over. Certainly I was not perfect in the marriage, but I don’t know anyone who is. She certainly wasn’t. But our primary difference was that I loved her imperfections and loved her both because of and in spite of same. As for Jennifer, I’ve no idea why she snapped one day (sometime between late October 2011 and early November 2011, the idea of our lifelong commitment was something she did not want to endure).
I owe her a great gratitude on a lot of levels. When we first got together, I was very much like her father – lying, cheating, all that good stuff. But by the time we got married in 2009, I had embraced therapy and I had embraced trust. I admit that I was iffy about the marriage idea – having seen so many that were hollow rings with people attached to them – but my trust in her saw me through. I admit to being quietly proud of the fact that no other person, male or female, could get between her and me. And it is because of Jennifer’s faith in me that I sought to make myself a good man. Both for me and for us.
We were married in August 2009 and bought our house in May 2010. That only 18 months transpired between the house and the introduction of separation still feels like a broadside of epic proportions. It is only made tolerable – barely, I should point out – when I trace the history to her involvement in Second Life, which took on a life of its own around August 2011. From then on, I felt secondary to the various virtual parties, dance club nights, weddings and various other events that seemed to clog our marital arteries.
I did reach out to various mutual friends and family members, but nobody turned a hair. Months later, when Jennifer returned to Facebook, blocking me immediately, several of these folks engaged her in various video distractions – Songpop, Farmville, etc. etc. – despite my warnings and expressed fears of her addictive personality. So at the end of the day, I am viewed as either a Bad Guy or Irrelevant Guy, and Jennifer continues to be enabled.
I miss my seven-year family so much that, even when silence comes in moments, I am aware of their absence. With respect to my sister-in-law, it wasn’t that long ago that I got her an autographed copy of a book entitled “Seeing Ezra” by Kerry Cohen, because I thought it might be beneficial with respect to her son, and encouraged her to pursue her photography. Then the landscape switched and she (the sister-in-law, not Ms. Cohen) had no interest in being friends whatsoever. As with Jennifer, I have no clue what I did to deserve such outright scorn.
And, for the record, I do continue to miss Jennifer. Not the Jennifer who, when I suggested she get off Second Life so we could go have brunch, would snap at me, “Ugh, you’re just like my mother!” Not the Jennifer who told her friends she was done with me in December 2011 but made nice-nice to my face to get what she wanted. Not the Jennifer who would not pay attention when I called because she was busy buying a virtual dress on Second Life in advance of the next virtual hoedown. That Jennifer can go off and become a crazy cat lady and knit beard hats for her nephews. No, my Jennifer was vibrant, brilliant, artistic, beautiful, adventurous and, more than all of that, compassionate.
As were they all. And I love them all still. But my love is the kind that overlooks a grave, but does not hug and kiss. Divorce is like a death, a friend of mine recently told me, only far, far worse.
If only it was that easy.
